


Backyard Fight Club

by FluffPuffCat



Series: Sport Souls [1]
Category: Dark Souls (Video Games), Dark Souls III
Genre: Dark Sword, Estoc Bestoc, Fight Club - Freeform, Gen, Git Gud, Pontiff Sulyvahn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-21
Updated: 2016-06-21
Packaged: 2018-07-16 07:49:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7258861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FluffPuffCat/pseuds/FluffPuffCat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pontiff Sulyvahn notices all the red stains in his back patio.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Backyard Fight Club

In the evenings, Pontiff Sulyvahn spent his time praying to Aldrich at the altar in the grand cathedral of Irithyll. After praying, he liked to go out into the round garden behind the cathedral, where standing by the balcony railing gave him an excellent view of the mountains and the moon. He focused his magic powers during these times, drawing out his inner strength through his observation of the moon, the mountain peaks, and the darkness of the night. 

Today, however, something was different. Something most certainly unexpected was occupying his patio.

Stains of blood covered the ground at his feet. He could feel magical energy emanating from these stains. It was the energy of ash, of the Unkindled – beings so worthless they were not fit even to be ember. How, then, could they possibly have made their way to this most hallowed and protected location? No other location in Irithyll connected to this patio. They would have had to pass through him first before they could get here, and the only place past it was Anor Londo, an unreachable city high up in the mountains. It was unthinkable that any Unkindled could have reached this location.

He knelt down and examined the stains. As he touched the blood with his gnarled finger, he began to experience a vision. In it, he saw a figure circling around the patio, brandishing a sword and a shield. They appeared focused, as if in combat. Then, something struck them, and they had no time to react. Their clothes and armour were torn apart by slashes from shoulder to waist. They fell to the ground and disappeared into ash.

The magic of the deep sorceries were potent. They were especially effective in constructing things that never were and should never be. One of the powers granted to users of deep sorceries, then, was resurrection. Or rather, reconstruction. The undead were capable of resurrecting themselves through sheer force of will. But reconstruction was the process of bringing a specific instance of them back, an instance that no longer existed as a result of them being slayed. He would reconstruct the creature that died at this blood stain and demand them explain what was going on at this patio.

Pontiff Sulyvahn raised his arm. A swirling tendril of darkness rose out from the sleeve of his robe and fell curled to the ground, where it wrapped around the stain. The air became tense, and the wind carried the scent of vile things from the Deep. Then the tendril sank into the stain and pulled out a squirming creature. An Ashen One. It was pulled out from the ground kneeling in front of Pontiff Sulyvahn.

The creature, who was human-like, appeared confused.

“What? What happened? I was just fighting, and then, I-”

“Explain yourselves,” Pontiff Sulyvahn commanded. “Explain the meaning of these blood stains.”

The Ashen One remained kneeling, but he lifted up his head. Brown eyes with brown hair, and a thick nose. A typical Unkindled.

“I was at a fight club,” he replied. “I was in a duel with my opponent, and I lost.”

“A fight club? But this is my back patio. How could anyone possibly have made it here without going through me?”

A smile came upon the Unkindled lips.

“Follow me, and I shall show you.”

He took out a long red stone which was sharpened to a tip and wrapped in yellow bandages. A second later, he slid the stone along the ground, causing a row of red runes to appear. The runes revealed a message stating that this Unkindled was willing to be “summoned” to another world.

“What is this?” Pontiff Sulyvahn demanded.

The runes began to glow.

“We shall see quite soon,” the Unkindled answered.

A minute later, the world began to fade away around Pontiff Sulyvahn. The only thing that remained solid was the Ashen One. Pontiff Sulyvahn grabbed him by the cuff of his metal armour and dragged him onto his feet.

“What is going on?!”

“Don't worry. We are being taken to another world, as invaders. When we arrive, we will be in the same location as before, or close to it. In either case, we simply make our way to this patio. Our summoner will be waiting for us there. Then, we will show you the meaning of those red stains.”

The world around them rematerialized. Pontiff Sulyvahn looked around and was surprised to find that they were standing at the top of the stairs on the left side of the patio. Only now, both of them were cloaked in a veil of red. The veil shrouded their entire bodies, giving them the appearance of a demonic red invader.

Immediately, the Ashen One broke free of Sulyvahn's grip and began running down the stairs. Sulyvahn chased after him. When they reached the patio, they saw a group of red-cloaked men sitting atop the ledge. In the round garden below, two men were circling each other with their swords and shields out. The men sitting atop the ledge were cheering for the fighters.

Everyone turned to look at them as Sulyvahn approached the group.

“Welcome, welcome!” one amongst the group who was glowing yellow exclaimed. “Glad to see you make it. Come, sit down – we're in the middle of a most riveting match!”

The Ashen One nodded and sat down beside them, but Sulyvahn could not be more confused. Where was he? Who were these people? And what were all of them doing in a backyard that belonged to him?

He approached the glowing yellow one.

“I demand an explanation this instant!” Sulyvahn roared.

The yellow one turned to look at him, and his eyes went wide.

“Woah, man. Pontiff Sulyvahn?! All right, all right, who's the hacker here?”

“I'm not a hacker,” the other Ashen One from before said. “Like, I just woke up, and Pontiff Sulyvahn was standing beside me. So I used my Red Sign Soapstone, and when I got summoned, the Pontiff came with me.”

“Well, he certainly isn't being hyper aggressive like he usually is,” the yellow one responded. “Hey, Pontiff. Finally decided to chill out and join us for some good duels?”

“I'll show you hyper aggressive!” Sulyvahn exclaimed. 

He pulled out his swords and pointed them at the yellow one's neck. Immediately, everyone sitting beside him stood up and unsheathed their weapons. Sulyvahn found himself surrounded by a ring of swords, spears, and axes.

“Woah, man. Calm down,” the yellow one said. “I see you're new to fight clubs. We ought to introduce you to our rules. See, no one fights unless they're in the garden down there. And while two people are duelling, everyone else has to keep their weapons down. So, like, I get that you're not very happy about how we've all decided to use your backyard as our duelling arena, but, you know, sometimes you just gotta chill and go with the flow. Why not settle down and wait your turn to have a good, fair fight?”

Sulyvahn glanced around. There was no way out of this ring of pain. He could sense power, the power of embers, emanating from these Ashen Ones. They were not the usual, run-of-the-mill Unkindled that trespassed Irithyll every once in a while. Fighting them would end badly for him. Resigned, he sheathed his swords.

The Unkindled put their weapons down as well.

“See? You're already getting it!” the yellow one said, clapping his hands. “Glad you're joining our fight club. Oh! I ought to introduce myself. The name's Bronn234. Come on, sit down.”

“Do you know to whom you are speaking to?” Sulyvahn said in a seething tone. “I am Pontiff Sulyvahn, ruler of Irithyll!”

“We know that,” Bronn234 said. “All of us here have fought you before.”

“What?!”

“Hey. There's no other way to get to this fight club, is there? We've all defeated you at least once.”

“But...but I am still alive! How is that possible?!”

Bronn234 shrugged. “Time in Lothric is convoluted. Everyone here's from a drastically different timeline. You're probably just from a timeline where the Ashen One hasn't defeated you yet. Consider yourself lucky! Most of them succeed sooner or later.”

“This is preposterous!”

“Hey. Don't blame me for telling you the truth, man. And keep your voice down. As members of this fight club, we should all be cheering for our current duelists.”

Bronn234 motioned with a finger towards the two people who were fighting in the pit below. One of them was using a long and rectangular blade pulsing with dark energies. The other wielded a smaller but straighter stabbing sword.

Strangely, there were runes hanging above both of their heads. The runes revealed the fighters' names: the one holding the Dark Sword was called xxScrubL0rdxx, while the one with the Estoc was called James Doug.

Sulyvahn watched as xxScrubL0rdxx flailed around wildly with his Dark Sword, showing no semblance of the accuracy, finesse, or skill that was taught to any sword fighter with the gall to call themselves a Knight of Irithyll. Meanwhile, James Doug masterfully blocked every attack from the Dark Sword with his shield, countering with a single stab of his Estoc at opportune moments. These stabs, while not lethal by themselves, had torn through the armour of xxScrubL0rdxx and was slowly wearing him down. 

After several blows, xxScrubL0rdxx charged towards his opponent with his Dark Sword pointed forward in a desperate attempt to fell his opponent. James Doug sidestepped out of the way, circled his opponent, and then inflicted a devastating backstab upon xxScrubL0rdxx. With a cry of pain, xxScrubL0rdxx collapsed to the ground and disintegrated into red ash.

The crowd cheered uproariously.

“And we have our winner!” Bronn234 yelled, pointing towards James Doug while everyone else clapped. Then, to Sulyvahn's surprise, Bronn234 took his hand.

“We welcome our newest member of this fight club, Pontiff Sulyvahn! As a gesture of appreciation for following our rules, we will allow him to fight next!”

Sulyvahn was tossed into the pit without any further warning. He looked back up at Bronn234, who was grinning at him. A burning rage rose within Sulyvahn. He wanted to slaughter everyone at this fight club. All these Unkindled were weaklings! How dare they host fight clubs in his backyard, covering this sacred ground with their blasphemous blood stains? 

He turned to face James Doug, who was bowing at him. 

Sulyvahn decided to resist his murderous urges. Fine. He would play by their rules. All he had to do was defeat them, one by one, until everyone at this pathetic fight club had fallen by his hand. That would do it. That would show them who's boss around here. That would remove Unkindled fight clubs from his back patio forever!

He unsheathed his blades, and they began to glow. Burning fire in his right hand, Deep sorceries in his left. These swords contained more power than any of these Unkindled could ever handle. How could any of them possibly have defeated him in some other timeline? Bronn234 was surely lying. He would show them here, now, that no one could stand against the might of the Ruler of Irithyll.

James Doug charged first. Sulyvahn raised his sword of fire, rage up rising within him. With this one blow, he could probably blast his opponent into ashes. They were weak Undead, while he, with the power of the Profaned Flame, was the greatest sorcerer who had ever lived. How could he possibly lose? One blow, and his opponent would become nothing. One blow, and -

James Doug raised his shield and parried his sword out of the way. The next instant, Sulyvahn felt a sword being plunged through his chest. He gasped. How? How could it be? How could he, Pontiff Sulyvahn, Ruler of Irithyll, be outplayed by an Unkindled, a creature so worthless that they would not even be fit to be ember?

As James Doug kicked him off his blade, Sulyvahn tried to rise up. He tried to cast his spells of Deep sorcery, the spell that would summon a double of him. But a flurry of stabs from the Estoc brought him out of his spellcasting, and before he knew it, he was on his knees again. There was another stab through his chest. His vision went white. Both of his swords collapsed to the ground. He was stabbed repeatedly until he had no more will left to rise.

The crowd cheered and applauded.

“Im...impossible...” Sulyvahn said as he began to fade to ash. 

Just before his eyes closed, he saw James Doug approach him. James Doug leaned in until his head was right by Sulyvahn's ear.

“Don't worry,” James said. “You aren't going to die. You'll just be kicked out of this world. After some time, you'll wake up back in your own.”

“H-h-how?” Sulyvahn stammered. “How is it that you have defeated me?!”

A smile came over James' face. 

“Well, if you ever plan on going to any future fight clubs,” James said, “I have some advice for you.”

“What is it?”

“Git gud.”


End file.
